Grissom's Hands
by Burntsugrr
Summary: This is a story written in answer to video challenge at your tax dollars at work. A traumatic event leads to exploration of Grissom's past. GS Romance.
1. Default Chapter

Grissom's Hands

Disclaimer: Obviously the characters of CSI are not mine or you'd be watching this on a screen not reading it here.

Chapter One

The heat made Sara restless.

That's what she told herself. The reason she allowed herself. It certainly had nothing to do with the fact that Grissom was away, or the way that he left.

Unlike him though.

He had made a vague reference to a seminar, not saying whether he intended to be a speaker or attendee. Not that she cared.

How many entomology seminars can there be this week?

None. Well, none that her exhaustive Internet searching turned up.

None that the Will Pratt knew about either. As the curator of the department of entomology at the Marjorie Barrick Museum at UNLV he would know right?

Stupid heat.

Her shift was over. Sara considered her options. Go back to her apartment, with the broken a.c. and noisy fans and obsess (about how HOT she was, of course), or stay within the cool and oddly more familiar halls of the lab?

The lab.

Because it was cooler here.

NOT because she felt closer to him here.

She walked the halls for forty-five minutes and then found herself outside his office. The light from the temperature chamber behind his desk threw a soft glow on the room. Dazed she stood, looking without seeing, chewing her bottom lip.

"Sara?"

She started at Archie's voice. "You okay?"

"Uh. Fine, yeah. I just…uh, I was trying to see if I left my book in Gris's office."

"Oh. Right. Well, I don't think he locked it anyway. He doesn't always because we have samples in there and stuff. I'm off for the night, see you tomorrow, Sara."

"Right, night Arch."

When she was again alone in the hall she tentatively touched the knob and the office door swung open. Her eyes cut left, then right before she entered swiftly.

Inside the office Sara breathed deeply. It smelled like him in here. Not the smell of his skin, but the smell of the things that came together to represent him. Formalin, latex gloves, old books, alcohol…a mix of the work they did, assaulting the nose.

She slid her hand along his desk, her mind automatically picturing his hand there days before. There had been a meeting in his office, no big deal; at least, she didn't think it had been. She had lost focus when she'd noticed his hand splayed firmly on the desktop, her mind had taken her in it's own direction, exploring the possibilities of the hands of the man she had wanted for so very long.

A knock on the window…geez, Archie must be trying to give her a heart attack.

A grin from Archie "Find your book?"

Sara grabbed the first book she found on a desk riddled with them and left the office to meet the computer tech in the hall.

"Yeah. Thought you were out of here."

"Forgot my disk. Night."

Xxx

Sara settled into a chair in the lounge, a case file and the book she had lifted from Grissom's desk as companions. The case file was an old one that still bothered her. She pulled it out frequently when she couldn't sleep; always searching for the clue she missed.

She began with the book. THE BLANK SLATE: The Modern Denial of Human Nature by Stephen Pinker.

"Our conceptions of human nature affect every aspect of our lives, from child-rearing to politics to morality to the arts. Yet many fear that scientific discoveries about innate patterns of thinking and feeling may be used to justify inequality, to subvert social change, and to dissolve personal responsibility."

She tried. She was actually fascinated, both by the book, and by what Grissom might have been searching for in it. Soon though, exhaustion took over and Sara was asleep, the side of her face resting on the book so recently held in the hands she coveted.

In her dream she is walking across campus. The night is brisk. Other students walk in pairs but Sara is alone. When she raises her glance to the building before her, her eyes land automatically on the window with the light on. Behind that window Dr. Gil Grissom grades her paper. She knows he is appraising her work at this exact moment, she can feel him carefully examine every theme she has presented for his approval.

She slows, uncertain as to whether she is ready to hear his criticism. Leaving her dorm room she had been full of pride, unable to wait until class tomorrow to hear him praise her work. Now, the closer she came, the less sure of herself she was, the tightening in her stomach a physical manifestation of the emotional investment of pleasing him.

With swiftness saved for dreams and vampires she found herself at his office door. He looked up and her gazed dropped. "I…uh…you're busy."

"Sara Sidle. Come in. Sit down."

"I was just wondering if you'd had a chance to uh…a chance to look at…"

"Your paper."

He stood and moved around the desk. She had to lean back to look up at him, so close to her was his new position.

"Yeah. I was wondering what you thought."

"What I thought? Or what I'm thinking?"

Confusion…mild panic as he bent his face close to hers, his breath warm against her cheek and ear.

"Naughty Sara. You're not here for a grade, you're here to feel my hands on you. Sara. Sara."

Sara jumped awake and rubbed her temple, looking around the break room.

"Sleeping beauty." Sara felt a flush at the form of Grissom in the doorway but recovered quickly.

"Prince Charming's back I see. Fast seminar."

"I missed you."

Did he really just say that? Was she still dreaming?

He leaned on the wall, crossing one leg lazily in front of the other "You look like an angel when you sleep Sara."

His voice was so even, in such control. She had no response; she merely licked her lips and stared at him.

"Mmmm, such tasty lips."

"Gris, are you okay?"

"New and improved." He arched his brows.

"What kind of seminar was this?" she asked with a smirk.

"A seminar of opportunity, Sara." No smirk.

He moved and knelt in front of her. His head down he took her hand and kissed the underside of her wrist, a small smile of delight forming the corners of his mouth at her sharp inhale.

"For so long now Sara, I've watched you, and I've waited. I've taken my time and taken precautions. Nothing can go wrong now Sara. Every obstacle has been overcome."

"Gris, what…what did you do? What's changed?"

"I have. Tell me Sara. Tell me you want me, that's all I need to hear."

She tried to catch his eyes, to hold his gaze but he moved his face next to hers and whispered in her ear, "Tell me Sara, there's nothing to lose, I won't turn you down. I won't run away."

Before she met his hungry mouth she moaned it, "Want…oh, I want you Grissom."

His insistence of venue…her place, hadn't struck her as odd. She assumed he'd want to be able to leave when he wanted, and still held back, needing his own space. Driving to her apartment seemed to take longer than it ever had. She tried to keep her breathing even, played what he had said over and over in her head. There was something unreal, something about this that felt off but she couldn't put a name to it. She decided it was the suddenness of the turned tide. She had asked him to try; he had said he didn't know how. Perhaps he had been soul searching instead of at a seminar.

They had taken their separate cars and when she'd instructed him that he needed to move his Tahoe to visitor parking and out of Old Lady Manning's space he'd simply snarled that he had no patience for the mundane.

Upstairs he took her key to open the door when her own fingers fumbled.

"Do you want some wine, or a beer or …" The door clicked locked behind her.

"You Sara. I want you."

His mouth was on her neck, hot and ferocious, his hands tore her tank top from her without hesitation.

Breathless Sara protested, "Gris, slow down, there's no rush, let's enjoy this."

The words fell on deaf ears as he continued his hungry attack. His hands were rough on her skin, his teeth catching her right nipple and biting hard enough to draw blood.

"OW! Stop it! Grissom!"

She struggled to get away but he was too strong and soon she was on the floor, her slacks being shoved to her ankles as he held her upper body to the floor with his forearm. Her mind raced to make sense of what was happening, to put order to the events unfolding.

"Why Grissom?" she choked out through tears.

 "You want this Sara. You want me. Remember?"

"Not like this. I don't want this!" She bit his arm, raising an ugly bruise, but no reaction from the man obviously fueled by adrenaline and rage.

He caught her wrists in his hands and slammed her head back to the floor. Now two wrists in one hand, using the other to force himself inside her.

"You want me Sara. You said you did. You wanted this."

She was screaming, tears flowing down her face. She looked up into his eyes and saw no trace of the man she had worshipped and desired for all these years.

The next few minutes passed like a flash of lightening, but would be played out in slow motion in her mind for years to come.

The sound of the door opening….yelling from the doorway…looking over the shoulder of this monster who was violating her to see the bruised and beaten face of…

His name escaped her throat with a shriek she would have never thought herself capable of "GILLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLL"

The monster stopped and turned to see his twin at the door. One bullet and he was dropped onto her, still hot and now heavy.

Sara was too shocked to roll out from under him. All she could do was lie on the floor, whimpering sentences she'd never remember, trying to make sense of what had happened.

Brass moved from behind Gil and went to pull Miles Grissom off Sara.

"He's dead." Brass's only comment.

Gil didn't speak. He pulled an afghan from the sofa and covered Sara. She looked into his eyes and swallowed hard, still trying to catch her breath.

He sat on the floor and pulled her into his arms, rocking her gently against him, "Shhhh, Sara, you're okay now. I'm so sorry honey, but you're safe now."

Sara let him rock her. She watched his hands hold on to each other creating a circle of his arms. His knuckles were white, betraying the calm in his voice.  Her glazed eyes followed Brass making a call for an ambulance on his cell phone 'no hurry'.

When her breathing began to return to something close to normal she sat up, away from Grissom. She faced him, "I….need to….to clean up…." A shudder passed through her body. "I have to shower. Could you…ah…"

"Anything."

"Could you just sit outside the door and make sure no one…make sure…"

She began to cry again, long hard sobs that shook her entire body.

"You're safe Sara. Go on." Her hands trembled and she swallowed when he said her name, so controlled, exactly the way HE had said it. She took a beat and went slowly to the bathroom.

Brass cleared his throat, "Good call, coming here. How'd you know he'd be here?"

Gil didn't respond. He stood in front of the bathroom door like a sentry, his eyes locked on the fallen frame of his twin. If there was rage, or fear or any emotion at all it did not show.

Brass tried again. "Should she be showering? Shouldn't so go to the hospital, have a…ah…a sart kit…."

If he had been trying to trigger emotion he had made a direct hit. Anger thundered across Grissom's face but his voice remained in complete control "No need. Sara does exactly what she wants to do. Nobody bothers her with anything."

"Right. Should I call in one of your guys to…process…?"

"Warrick."

Inside the bathroom Sara ran the water as hot as she could stand. Under the spray she scrubbed her skin until it glowed like a sunburn but still she could feel his hands on her.

The hands of Grissom, twin hands to those she had longed for. They said her name in an identical way, as if they owned the word. Her mind began to turn the two to one until she felt the terror of Gil becoming Miles. Fear washed over her like water, fear that her one safe haven had been corrupted and never again would she feel safe in her home much less her desire.


	2. Grissom's Hands Chapter 2

Chapter Two

Warrick entered Sara's apartment tentatively. He hadn't gotten much from Brass on the phone, just that he should respond to an "incident" at Sara's home. Swatting away unsavory guesses at what he might find he grabbed his kit and hit the road.

He didn't expect to find Grissom on the floor in a pool of blood. 

"Make it fast. Just get him out of here." Gil growled from his guard duty.

Warrick's face registered shock for a millisecond as he realized that the body on the floor did not belong to his supervisor. Then he nodded and got to work. After snapping a few initial photos he raised his eyes to Gil, "She alright?"  Gil's mouth twitched a hair before he answered, "Too soon to tell. Physically, I'd say yes."

Another nod and Warrick returned his attention to the scene.

This is what made him perfect for the task. He was concerned but able to concentrate. No mothering instincts causing him to drop the camera and head for the bathroom door, and no fear of a misstep under Grissom's watchful eye to slow him down. Warrick would never know how grateful Grissom was for his professionalism and his friendship balanced in perfect harmony, something he himself found difficult.

"Warrick…you might want to go with the body, avoid any…confusion, at the morgue. Positive I.D. Miles Grissom."

"Right. Anything else?"

"Tell Catherine she's working a double."

When the last of the intruders were gone he turned his attention to the bathroom door. There was silence. No sound of water running, no sound of crying. This frightened him more than anything.

He knocked softly. "Sara?" Now his voice did not own her name, there was an apology inherent in the syllables. "They're gone. Are you…" he wasn't sure where to go with that, are you okay? Certainly not. "through in there?" was the best he could do.

A few very long moments passed and then her voice quietly answered, "Come on in."

Sara sat on the edge of the tub draped in a terry cloth robe; she ran the tips of her fingers over the back of her head. "I've got a bump I think."

"They'll look at it at the hospital. We should go as soon as you're ready."

Her eyes got wide, "No. I don't…I'm fine."

"Sara," gentle yet firm his hand on her elbow, urging her to her feet. "What would you tell a woman at a scene?" "My home is not a crime scene." She had meant for it to be defiant but didn't have the resources. Instead it was a plea.

His hand found the bump and he caressed it tenderly. "That's not good. Did you lose consciousness at any time?" "No. I wish I had." He lowered his eyes; so many things he wanted to explain for her but the need for medical attention superceded them.  He leaned closer, meaning to comfort her but his warm breath against her cheek only reminded her of the attack and again the twins became one in the same. "NO!" She pushed him away before she could stop herself.

He tried to steady himself against the shower wall but it was slick with water and he fell.

"Crap…Grissom…are you okay?" She bent to check on him and her vision went dim.  His hands caught her upper arms and lowered her slowly onto him. "Sara?" "Maybe, maybe the hospital's a good idea." "What's going on, what hurts?" "Everything. My head, my arms, name it. Bending over was a bad idea." "Lights go out?" "Little bit."

He did the how many fingers thing with three successful answers. Looking at his hands seemed to send her further into retreat. "Sara?" "Hum?" "Look at my eyes." She obeyed, and immediately her posture relaxed. "I'll show you something else, look here, over my right eye, a scar," He took her hand and let her finger trace it. "Gil. Scar." She was quietly repeating it to herself. Then as if seeing him for the first time she noticed, "My God your face! Are you alright? Those bruises…" "Are days old, please can we go to the hospital now? I'd like to get your head examined." She made a brief face, "You first."

The light moment was short lived, but gave them both hope.


	3. Chapter 3

Chapter Three

He waited in the living room while she went to put on some clothes. His mind reverted to what he had trained it to do: picture them, coming in the door, playing out all the ways in which they might have ended up where he found them. Each time his eyes stopping just before they reached the blood stained floor.

"Sara?"

"Uh…hang on…yeah?"

"You'd better pack a few things in a bag."

"Oh. Right."

He could hear drawers opening and then being slammed shut, Sara mummering curse words. This was good, 'get angry Sara' he thought, 'get mad, at him, at me, whatever, but get angry. I can deal with you mad, just not hurt…that one might break me.'

"Okay. I'm ready as I'll ever be I guess." Gil stood blocking her view of the spattered carpet and sofa, making a path for her toward her door. "We'll have to take your car, I rode here with Brass."

"No, your Tahoe is out front, you…parked in…oh. Right. Uh, my keys…"

She was disorienting, and her eyes lacked focus, Grissom grabbed the keys from where his brother had thrown them next to the door and ushered her into the hall.

XXX

He felt strange driving her jeep. It felt like an invasion, a thought that shook him even as he realized its insignificance.  Sara was folded into the seat beside him, her arms crossed around her, her hands hanging each at it's opposite hip. He noticed her chin dip; her eyes begin to close, "Hey Sara, tell me about your favorite lab in college."

She turned to him, confused. "What?"

"Your favorite lab. Was it a biology thing where you got to dissect stuff, was it chemistry where you got to blow up stuff, or was it physics, where you got to…hell, what do you do in a physics lab?"

She rested her head back, her eyes stayed open as she thought.

"Physics. 191r. Advanced Physics lab."

"Do you remember one particular experiment, anything that made it your favorite?"

Sara looked at him sideways, "Bose Einstein Condensation lab, and don't think I don't know what you're doing."

"Bose-Einstein…super atom. How'd you do that?"

Sara sighed and explained the experiment, laser lights, low temperatures, she was surprised at how much she remembered. Before she could finish he pulled up at the hospital entrance.

He walked around and opened her door. "Thanks." Her eyes held his, and he understood, thanks for keeping me awake, thanks for keeping my mind somewhere safe…

She was stiff; her muscles heavy from sudden stress and relent.  He steadied her on her walk to the desk and gave her name to the triage receptionist.  Brass had called ahead, no more public discussion of the incident was necessary. 

"Curtain 3, right over here, honey" A nurse took over his charge. "I'm going to move your car, then I'll be in the waiting area until you send for me." "Thanks." Now she didn't hold his gaze, now she returned to looking shell shocked and wary.

The moment she was out of view he headed for the men's room where he vomited, punched a stall wall and vomited again.  Standing in front of the mirror he splashed water on his face but did not look at it. The bruises didn't change him, the scar didn't fool him.

The car safely parked, he searched out the vending machines. Gum. Breath mints.  His phone rang and a nurse shot a look at him, then the sign "Shut off all cell phones."

On the other side of the rotating door he held the small phone to his ear.

"Grissom."

 "Where are you?" Catherine's voice was faint, though it was obvious she was yelling. 

He walked trying to find a better cell. "Hospital. Can you hear me?"

 "Barely."

"Where are you?"

"Tangiers. You should probably…ah…I can't have the lead on this."

Grissom's eyes tightened, his lip twitched. His voice was quiet, yet unyielding "Call in dayshift."

"You want to hand this to Eckley?" Catherine couldn't believe what she was hearing.

"I don't care. I'm off. I'm taking some time…off." He could just see Sara's jeep in the lot from here. In his mind he saw them leaving, window's down, the wind in Sara's hair, her singing with the radio. He blew out a breath.

"Time? Warrick said she was okay."  She sounded confused and concerned.

"No. She's not okay. Neither of us is okay, but maybe we have the chance to be. Take care Catherine. Be careful." He hung up and shut the phone off.


	4. Chapter 4

Chapter 4

"You can go in and sit with her, she's resting."

"Did she ask for me?"

"We gave her a sedative, she's out of it, but I'm sure when she wakes up she'll want to see a friendly face."

Grissom tried a smile. He wasn't sure she'd considered his a friendly face for a while, now the best he could hope for was that it was a face that didn't terrify her.

He knocked softly on her door and then walked in. She slept on her side, fetal position, self-protection. It was difficult not to stare at her. Her normally pensive face was tender in sleep.  Someone else might not see the slight bruising on her lower lip, but for him it was like a neon sign.  He could see bruising at her wrists, was worried that the red marks on her biceps could be from him, when she'd lost her balance. He realized he was assessing, categorizing, but not processing the fallout from what had happened. It was too soon to face the full on horror of what had been done. Certainly it was too soon to think about having to talk to his mother.

He grabbed the phone in her private room.

"Brass"

"Grissom. No one has informed the ah, family of the deceased. Yes?"

"Just you. How's Sara?"

"Sleeping. Make sure no one searches out any other family to inform."

"You got it. Gil…if there's anything else you need…"

"Time. I've got plenty of vacation time, I'm taking it. "

"Got it."

Light from the window fell in slats across her face. Her eyes opened, then closed. She stretched, winced and sat bolt upright.

"It's okay." Was all he could think of to say.

"How long was I out?" she stretched more carefully this time and took in the room.

"Two hours, give or take. "

He wanted to ask her how she felt, he wanted a sign that she could look at him and not be ill, he wanted so many answers to questions he couldn't even form or imagine. Instead he poured ice water and held a cup out to her.

"Thanks. Do I look as bad as you?"

His face softened, "Impossible."

He sat by her bedside, encourage that she seemed to be able to look at him without fear.

"Doctor said I'd be okay. Gave me a number of a counselor, bandaged some stuff… I think I have a scrip for painkillers and sedatives coming."

"Good."

"I won't take them."

"Sara." He took a breath. "I know you're strong, no one is disputing that, but you won't be if you don't take time to heal, take care of your self."

She looked down, the twitch in her smile spoke volumes.

"That's good advice, you should take it."

"Done. I'm on vacation, and you're on leave."

Sara took a moment to process this. "So you told them I was on leave?" her voice was indignant. "No," his was patient, "that's not my place, but I strongly suggest you make the call." He understood her need to feel control over her life; he'd struggled with the same need for years.

A nurse came in and smiled in Sara's direction, "You're awake, good. Perhaps we could have a moment alone?"

When the heavy set woman in peach scrubs came out of the room she told Grissom that Sara was "…ready to go home."

Grissom felt his chest tighten. No, he thought she is NOT ready to go home, and neither am I. When he worked up the courage to return to her room Sara was sitting on her bed, dressed, obviously waiting for him.

"They told me you're ready to…go." "Yeah. I guess." Sara looked around nervously. "The question is, go where?"

Grissom looked around the room as though the answer might be in the bad paint job or ugly curtains. Sara reasoned, "It's Vegas right? Hotel city, I'll just…check into…"

"I'm going home to California, Sara. I have to…talk to my mother, tell her what…happened." He sighed then continued. "I wish you'd come with me. I understand that under the circumstances you might not want to, be around, well, anyway, I think you need to get away, and I think we both have a lot to say to one another that we can't say here."

Her mind gave her a thousand responses. She couldn't go with him, it hurt her just to look at him, she didn't want to face his mother, the mother of the man she most loved and the mother of the man who had hurt her. In the end it was her heart that responded, she nodded her ascent and Gil for the first time since he was very small began to believe that things might just end up okay.


	5. Chapter 5

Chapter 5

The flight to LAX was a short one, just over an hour. If circumstances had been different they'd have driven. It was a road trip Gil had fantasized about many times, bringing Sara home to share with her the place in which he'd grown up, but he had never imagined this.

Trina Grissom lived in a modest size Spanish style home with a well-groomed yard in front and garden out back.  Her bright blue eyes and lovely face belied both her age, and the difficulties she had faced.

Grissom both signed and spoke his greeting. Her first response to her son was to closely examine his face. He signed something to her that he didn't speak. Sara wondered whether she was trying to determine what had happened to cause the bruising, or which of her sons had arrived at her door.

When he introduced Sara, Trina spoke to her with clear voice and Sara looked to Grissom, "I…uh, I can't sign."

 "It's okay, just speak to her, she reads lips perfectly well as long as she is close enough to see you clearly."

 "Oh, but you…" Trina broke in laughing some, "I make him sign. I like to be sure he's keeping it up." 

A bright and genuine smile crossed Sara's face "I see, it's nice to know someone keeps him in line."

Grissom shot her a pointed look, which she pretended to miss.

After a half hour of pleasantries Trina set Sara up in a guest bedroom at Grissom's request. He talked Sara into a painkiller and a nap then asked his mother to come sit in her garden.

Sara watched them through the window. Gil used no spoken word now, alone with his mother, he signed. His mother asked her questions in sign language as well and Sara thought perhaps the words were too much for either of them to speak aloud.

Her eyes closed in sleep before Gil got to the worst of it.

Outside in the garden Gil explained to his mother the full story. They had never held anything back from one another.  He hesitated before telling her the end, the pain in her eyes nearly stopping him. "Where is he now?" she asked aloud. "Gone." Gil answered, and then he signed, "at my hands."  Trina closed her eyes, shutting him out from her thoughts. He knew that she had been afraid of Miles for a long time, but also knew that to find out that one son had killed another was not easy news no matter the reason.

In a little while, her legendary composer regained, Trina spoke, "This Sara, she must love you very much to have come here. It had to be a difficult choice." It was her son's turn to avoid eye contact, but she touched his hand and then signed, "Allow yourself happiness."

His smile was best described as wistful.

XXX

It was late evening when Sara arose from her sleep. She was certain that were it not for the painkillers she'd have gotten no sleep at all. Nightmares troubled her and she woke with a pounding head. Someone had left a nightlight on in her room and a glass of water next to her bed. She went in search of the bathroom and was surprised to find Gil, sitting in a chair about 3 feet outside her door. His eyes were closed, the moon illuminating half of his face. She froze in fear. His eyes opened, "Are you alright Sara?" He moved and watched her eyes search his face fully in the moonlight now. He could almost hear her recite it in her head, "Gil, scar."  "I ah…I was looking for the bathroom."

While she made use of the facilities Gil put together a small tray of fruit and cheese from the kitchen. He heard the door creak open "Are you hungry?" "Not very." "You haven't eaten. You should try."

She sat and picked at the cheese, he poured her some iced tea. "How's your mom?" "It's hard to say. I think it's a mix of sadness and relief." "It had to be difficult news to deliver, I'm sorry." They locked eyes for a moment. "She was grateful that you came." Now he looked away, "So am I."

She touched his bruised eye, "Tell me."

He stood and moved to the darker living room. He didn't want to look at her and tell this story. She chose to sit, not on the nearest chair but on the hassock directly in front of him, their knees nearly touching. Her nearness unnerved and calmed him in the same moment.

"When I was walking into my building after work Thursday night my next door neighbor asked me if I forgot something. I didn't know what she was talking about so I just smiled and waved and went inside. I didn't have time to think about how odd a question it was because as soon as I closed the door behind me everything went black."

He took a moment, he could picture the rest in his head, but with Sara sitting so close and watching him with such earnest it was going to be difficult to continue.

"He had been waiting…he had gone to the super and asked to be let in, he had locked himself out."

"Super thought he was you…"

"Right. So he went in and waited. I don't know how long he had been there but he was ready when I walked in. I felt a blow to the back of my head," here Grissom's hand went automatically to the bump, "and I was out." The last part was said almost lightly. Being unconscious was the best part of spending time with his brother.

"When I came to he had me taped to a chair in my living room. He said he wanted to talk to me. First he asked me questions about stuff from when we were kids. It was almost like we were just having a conversation, nothing strange about it…"

"Two brothers, catching up, never mind the fact that one's tied down with a lump on his skull."

"Something like that. Then it got more recent, and more personal." He cleared his throat, obviously taking time to edit for her benefit. She remained on the edge of the hassock, watching him and waiting.

 "He wanted to know who I'd…been with, in the past year. I told him I wasn't going to answer those questions and that's when I got the bruises. He wanted details, the names he had. He listed for me the names of every woman I've had a conversation with in the grocery store, anyone I might have shared a moment with at work or in my personal life."

Sara swallowed and looked down. She didn't want to hear about other women in his personal life.

"I didn't know half of the women he mentioned. People at the diner where I get my coffee…"he shook his head, "People whose paths cross mine all the time but I have no relationship to. He knew them all, knew their stories, their lives. Then he began to tell me about people I did have relationships with."

He was silent a few minutes; Sara touched his hand gently, leaving her open palm draped on his tight fist.

"He had gone to visit women I had spent time with in college. Posed as me, had coffee, dinner."

"Did he attack them?"

"No. He just listened to them. Then he came here, and he began following me."

"He went to talk to…" he rubbed his chin, not really wanting to continue.

"Lady Heather."

"Yeah. He spent the night with her, posing as me."

"Because there was a vibe between you."

"Yes."

"But he didn't hurt her."

"Not physically."

Sara took her hand away now and sat back.

"So he beat you up, and told you everything he'd been doing, obviously he had no intention of letting you go."

"No. He was clear that I would only live long enough for him to cause me maximum pain. He put on my clothes and went to work the next night."

"To tell us all he, well, you, would be at a seminar."

"Is that what he said? I didn't know. I knew he had gone to work, and I knew that he had posed as me. He wouldn't give me any further details. I was afraid for all of you but didn't ask any specific questions. He was smart enough to read them and find out what I was most worried he'd do.

It was at that point he started showing me photos. For 24 hours, give or take, he showed me photo after photo of women he had raped and left. Some of them he brutalized, some he drugged. None of them were in this country, few were in the same area, so no connections were made."

"No commonality to connect them?"

"Just one. They all looked similar" he held her gaze even though he wanted badly to look, no, run from all of it. "They all had shoulder length dark hair, dark eyes, tall, thin build."

"Oh God."

Now he took her hands in his.

"Before he left last night he told me where he was going, what he had planned to do. He told me that he knew the only way he could ever hurt me wasn't to just end my life, but to ruin the only thing I lived for." He watched as her eyes filled with tears.

"He told me that I'd see you again, that your body would be the last thing I saw, and he would be the last thing you saw."

Grissom's voice broke, the pain from the lump in his throat breaking out into his words, "He lived for the moment of fear in your eyes when you realized what he would do to you, the rape, that was only the beginning. He'd make sure you believed that my love had been your torture and undoing."

Now they were both crying, but Grissom pressed on.

"He turned on the vcr as he walked out the door, on the tape was the most horrifying rape and killing of a woman I'd ever seen. He'd taped everything, from his seduction of her to her dismemberment, all the while calling her Sara and her calling him Gil."

"But you got away."

"He screwed up. He had plugged the phone back in to call work and check in, knowing I would. He forgot to unplug it before he left. I knocked the chair to the ground and just…made my way to it. I called Brass. You know the rest."


	6. Chapter 6

Chapter 6

Sara woke on the sofa with a slight smile. Gil had thrown what appeared to be a very expensive lightweight tapestry over her to keep her warm while she slept. Trina came to Sara as she sat up.

She signed as she spoke, although Gil was not in the room "Good morning. Did you get any sleep?" Sara's lopsided smile and then, "Some, we talked pretty late." "I saw the light, Gil was always a night creature." Sara shrugged, "You get used to the hours." "A different perspective of the world than most people." "I guess. This is, ah, beautiful, but I'm sure it wasn't meant as a sofa throw, is there somewhere you'd like me to put it?"

Trina smiled the patient smile of a tolerant mother. "Gil doesn't understand ornamental things. He would always try to find use for the art I would keep at home. It wasn't until he was old enough to appreciate classical music that he began to grasp my desire to keep beautiful things. Would you mind just draping it over the chair by the window?"

"Sure."

Outside Gil was transplanting a tree for his mother. Sara stood and watched him, blue t-shirt and jeans, covered in dirt, the sun glistening in his silver grey hair. Her focus settled on his forearms, strong and tan, despite his nocturnal lifestyle. Trina approached from behind, "He requires patience, but he's worth it." Sara considered this. "I'm sure he'd say it takes a lot of patience to deal with me too." "And I know he'd say you're worth it."

Sara looked down but smiled.

"Please, sit." Trina motioned to the chair over which Sara had placed the tapestry, she retrieved two bottles of water from the fridge, handed one to Sara and then took the chair opposite. Both were turned to facilitate face-to-face discussion while providing an excellent view of the back yard.  Trina spoke softly, "I'm sorry for what you've been through because of my sons." "Son. This isn't Gil's fault." "Beyond this, you've suffered because of him. My son and I keep no secrets. It hurt him to keep you at arms length, but maybe now you see why." Sara didn't expect this but seized the opportunity to unravel a little of the Grissom mystery.

"I always just assumed it was work, he is my supervisor. I can understand how it would be difficult for him." "Being your supervisor was his idea wasn't it?" "I guess it was."

"He talked about you for a long time before you moved to Las Vegas. I had only heard him talk about one other girl for so long. I encouraged him to pursue you but he felt it would only end badly." "Because of Miles." "Mostly, yes. Asking you to come work in Vegas was hard for him. He's afraid to bring anything important too close, Miles would always destroy it. I guess in the end you were worth the risk."

Sara sat back, watched Grissom stretch and squint in the sunlight and then return to the gardening. She licked her lips and spoke slowly, more to herself than Trina, "I was sure it was work. I was so pissed at him because he didn't think I was worth risking a job." Her voice trailed off and she shook her head.

"Maybe you should take him out a cold drink, he's not used to all this yard work."

"Uh, yeah, okay."

Gil heard the door shut behind her but didn't look up. "I brought you a drink, you looked hot."

He missed the eyebrow raise that accompanied the comment. "Thanks, give me just a sec."

Gil patted down some fresh earth around the transplant and then stood, slowly, one hand on his back.

"Backache?"

"Getting old." He took the water bottle, their hands almost sparking when the brushed.

"That's crap."

"Older, then. I creek."

She studied his face. He hadn't shaved. It was the first time she'd seen him with stubble. Normally he was professional and clean-shaven. She liked stubble in general but it had never occurred to her to imagine him with it, it seemed very Un-Grissomlike. It pleased her to see how well it looked on him. Together with the jeans and dirt it suited him very well. This was a Gil she could get used to.

"I love your mom."

A tender smile from him, "She's great. She didn't tell you embarrassing stories did she?"

"Only one or two."

Gil's cell phone rang from the bench. She picked it up and handed it to him, noticing that the caller ID said "Morgue". She wandered the garden pretending to look at the flowers while catching one side of the conversation. She noted that the man who kept no secrets from only one woman turned so that his back was to the window behind which his mother sat watching them.

"Grissom."

A long pause.

"Long term abuse. I did know, yes."

"I don't know when."

"A California address?"

"Thanks. Sara's…We are okay."

He hung up the phone. "Doc Robbins wanted me to tell you hello."

Sara leaned into a flower, "Hello Doc Robbins." It felt like a silly thing to say when she knew he was no longer on the phone.

When Grissom didn't say anything else she stood up tall and faced him, "Is something wrong? Something else I mean."

He licked his lips, thought for a moment before answering. "The Doc had some questions about Miles autopsy."

She knew prying could make him shut down completely but she couldn't help herself.

"What kind of questions? Why are they even doing an autopsy…we know how he died."

"They wanted to cover me, I guess, in case there's ever an inquiry about it being a bad shooting."

Sara slipped her fingers around his wrist, a move that made him start a little and then watch her closely. She led him to a swing in the far corner of the garden and then sat sideways to face him. "What kind of questions?"

Gil sighed. What he loved most about Sara, her inquisitive nature, her unrelenting search for the truth now focused on him. He knew better than to fight it.


	7. Chapter 7

Chapter 7

"He found evidence of previous fractures."

Sara's hand remained loosely at Gil's wrist, her pointer finger absently stroking his skin, "Sure, a guy lives like he does, does the stuff he does, someone's gonna get some shots in on him along the way."

"Older than that. Hundreds."

"Oh."

The implication settled on her like a weight. She pulled her hand back and ran it though her hair.

"My father was in the import/export business. He worked mostly with Communist China. He would bring in art for my mother's gallery. She hated him being gone for so long at a time but it was the 60's and if you wanted to do business with China you had to prove yourself to people. Mom thought he was over there representing her, but when some men started coming to the gallery demanding pieces she had sold the morning before she started to get nervous. Long story, short version, dad had been moving drugs through artwork. In the beginning he only brought in legitimate artwork to her gallery but used others to fence the drugs. He started getting greedy and as mom's hearing started to go he figured it would be pretty easy to slip some stuff past her. She may not hear much, but she's got good instincts. She checked every piece he brought in, figured out what was going on and told him she wanted a divorce."

He sipped his water and kept his eyes on the horizon. "She told him this while he was still in China, told him not to bother to come home. One morning about a month later she woke up and found his things gone from his closet. She says she never cried about losing him, that since Miles and I were born he had always been cruel to her. We never saw that, but he was distant to us, a stranger who sometimes came to stay. She came to our room in the morning to wake us up and my bed was empty. She thought I'd gotten up, gone to make myself breakfast or something but couldn't find me."

Again Gil paused, trying to find a way to verbalize the past he wanted so much to forget. "She only had to look in the next bed. Miles always wanted to sleep by the window so he got the window bed, but if it stormed he'd get scared of the thunder and bug me to switch with him. No one knew it. He had to be tough; no one could know he was scared. That night he had begged me to switch even though there had been no storm. I was half asleep I didn't care. He said he heard noises but I didn't pay much attention, I just got into his bed, let him have mine and returned to sleep. In the morning there was only my mother and I, my father's things were gone, Miles was gone. We didn't hear from either of them again for years."

"But your dad thought he had taken you."

"I was never clear on why. Maybe he wanted to take me to punish my mother. She hadn't learned to read lips that well yet and I was learning sign language with her, picking it up pretty quickly for a 5 year old, but Miles refused to try or it could have just been chance. He may have just grabbed, not even knowing which of us belonged in which bed. Either way, Miles blamed me for his life, said that if I had been in my bed I'd be the one living in China, forced to help my father with the seedier sides of his business, and taking the beatings when my father couldn't be found."

"I'm sorry."

"When I saw Miles again we were 13. My mother had searched and searched for him and when she found my father she hounded him until he agreed to bring Miles home. The damage had been done. He had been a pawn in too many games of evil men. He told me story after story of men who had beat him, men who had been allowed to rape him in repayment for my father's debts. My father had started using the drugs he was selling and had no sense of morality. He hired hookers and had sex with them in front of Miles, and then insisted Miles learn to follow his lead. When they were finished instead of paying them my father taught Miles how to slit their throats and leave them in garbage cans. At home Miles only interest was in watching things die."

"That's, oh God Gil, that's terrible."

"He would kill these animals in front of me and I would dissect them, try to figure out what the mechanics were of death. I think I was trying to find a way to stop their death, resurrect them maybe knowing it was futile."

"Undo your brother's evil."

His voice was nearly a whisper, "He wasn't evil. Not then. He was exorcizing his demons for certain but he wasn't evil. He wasn't at fault."

Sara stroked his hair, "Neither are you."

He surprised her by taking her hand and pressing his cheek into it. She continued to whisper, "This isn't your fault, you couldn't have stopped it. You were children." Tears slipped dripped between her fingers and welled in her palm. 


	8. Chapter 8

Chapter 8

She gave him a few minutes, tried to slow the butterflies in her stomach that responded in time with the ragged breaths that warmed her wrist. Finally she spoke, her voice more firm than she expected. "I heard you say something to Doc Robbins about an address?" It wasn't entirely a question, but it was more than a statement.

Now he took her hand away from his face, held it in his own and brought both to rest on his thigh. He looked at her a long moment, "That is my problem." Exasperated she sighed hard and tilted her head at him, "I had thought maybe we were in this together."

Her anger took her somewhat by surprise but it flared through her hot and thick. She would not allow him to close her off, not after all of this. She deserved to be a part of whatever journey he was about to begin. Her hand moved out of his almost on it's own.

"Sara," It was the voice she hated, his 'let's be patient with irrational Sara' voice. "This is not work. This is my life."

Cut by that she stood and walked away. He couldn't follow her, there was too much he had to understand himself before he could make sense of it for her.

When she reached the house she turned back to him, "It's my life too. This isn't a case I'm working _Grissom_," his last name, uttered for the first time since the ordeal, she used it pointedly. "This is how my life changed, this is how I was raped, how I could have died. It's not just about you."

He sat on the swing, too heavy to move. Letting her anger wash over him and seep into his pores. He deserved and accepted it.

Inside Sara threw clothes into a bag, ignoring the pain, both physical and mental. Trina cleared her throat as she entered the guest room, not wanting to intrude but knowing that her intercession was necessary. Sara turned; her face streaked with tears and faced her. "Thank you, for your hospitality Mrs. Grissom, but I think that I should go."

"Where?"

Sara blinked. "I'm sorry?"

Trina sat on the edge of the bed "Go where? You can't hide from your truth. I know the difficulties of dealing with the brothers Grimm, but trying to escape only prolongs the inevitable."

Sara dropped onto the bed. "Which is?"

"You are in love with my son. My son is in love with you. His twin did something unforgivable to you. He will carry his love for you as guilt and you will carry your love for him as anger until you both lift your heads and work together."  Sara smiled. "Gil's very lucky to have such an insightful mother."

"Yes, I am." He was at the door. He looked at Sara's half packed bag. "Please, don't go."

"Will you tell me the whole story? Tell me about the address?"

"Will you promise to trust me when I ask you to let me do some things on my own?"

"We'll work on it." Sara sniffed. Trina signed to her son, "Address?"

"I need a drink. Let's all get a drink and sit down."

Seated around her small kitchen table the three sipped mimosas, which Trina had mixed expertly.

"This seems like the wrong thing to be drinking for a serious conversation." Sara stated, swirling her glass on the table.  "It's too early in the day to justify anything else." Trina replied reasonably.

Sara thought that with all they'd been through in the past few days they didn't really need justification for a drink or two but kept that thought to herself as Gil began to bring his mother up to date about Doc Robbins's findings.

"…And then he told me that Brass had uncovered an address for Miles, here in California. Said that they were going to send some uniforms out to have a look thought I might want to be present."

"Uniforms?" Sara was on her feet. "Not criminalists? Not detectives…uniforms?"

"They don't know what you know about him Sara. They only know that he held me captive in my home and that he…" his words trailed off, he cleared his throat and finished "hurt you."

"Raped me."

"Yes."

Trina's eyes followed the conversation as best she could but as Sara became more agitated she spoke rapidly and was difficult to read.

"Hasn't Brass, hasn't _someone_ been to your apartment? Haven't they seen the photos, the video?"

"I don't know. I'd guess they have. I don't know that there won't be more people at my brother's place; I just know that the word the Doc used was uniforms. Could have been a slip."

Trina looked at her son, "Where?"

He had hoped she wouldn't ask. He had hoped to keep this to himself entirely and never let her know how close he had been. His mind had already made assumptions and connections that he knew hers would follow. There was no point in lying now they had come this far. "Parker Road."

A chill traveled Sara's spine when she saw the raw fear in Trina's eyes. Gil held his mothers hands and her gaze, "Mama, it's done." Her jaw quivered and she excused herself. Drink in hand the elegant woman walked shoulders squared. Drawn to her full height she went behind a door Sara hadn't noticed before.

"Meditation room. Safe room. Sanctuary." Gil explained with a small shrug. He expected this.

When he was small his mother had kept a room she referred to as "Sanctuary" off limits to her children. As a boy he imagined all sorts of magical things that might have happened in the room. When the nightmares began, around the time he was 7 his mother allowed him entrance to her private space. It had been filled then with books, candles and quiet music. The music he had not understood, she couldn't hear it and the bass too light to be appreciated through vibration. When he questioned her she answered simply "I know it is there and that is enough."

Over the years the room had become full of artwork, light, aromatherapy candles, more books, massage oils and equipment. There were rubbing stones and water gardens, bonsai trees and many other plants.

As Miles had grown so had the room. Eventually Gil installed all of the mechanics required to make it a safe room- steel walls, locks, codes, and cameras. Only two people knew the secrets of that room and they were both in need of sanctuary now as much as ever.

Gil looked at Sara, read her thoughts. He had become her sanctuary and safety and in a strange way, she had become his.

She brought him back to the moment, "Parker Road. I take it that's not far?"

"Less than a 20 minute drive. It's the closest thing to back woods as you get around here."

"When are we going?"

"Sara," there was that voice again. "There's no reason for you to go. You don't have anything to prove here."

She kept her voice calm, "There are a million reasons for me to go, not the least of which is this, if I don't go my imagination will make things progressively worse for the rest of my life. I can go, know and be done."

"You've been hurt enough by this. I don't know what we'll find."

She perched the chair next to his. "No more games Gil. I'm laying it down here and now. I can do this if I know you'll be next to me. I need to know that when I get there I can reach out and take your hand if I need to. I need to know that you won't turn away in case someone sees us. I need to know that if I wake up in a cold sweat because I see myself in that house or in my own apartment I can open my eyes and find you nearby, just like last night. I know you stayed outside my room for a reason, I know you slept on the chair so you would be there if I woke on the sofa. I need to know that's not going to change for awhile."

The right side of his mouth twisted. It was nearly a smile, could have been without the sadness in his eyes. He stroked his hand lightly along her bruised wrist, up her bruised arm and then traced her bruised lips with a fingertip, "I'm here honey, and I'm not turning away. I'll be as close as you can stand to keep me."

Her eyes closed and she felt relief flood through her, his touch was as much a promise as his words.

"When can we go?" she returned to the question.

"Whenever you feel ready."

"What about your mother?"

"She'll stay in there awhile."

Sara stood. "Let's get to it."


	9. Chapter 9

Chapter 9

Gil guided the car up the curved hill that was Parker Road. "Should we call the local police, tell them that we're going to the house?" Sara wondered out loud. His eyes locked on the road he answered her, "If there's tape we'll call. If not, it's my family's house, no reason I can't go in. I'd prefer not to have an audience for this." Sara simply nodded.

The driveway was dirt and difficult to find, the mailbox overgrown with vegetation. They drove as far as they could and then left the rental behind, not wanting to risk it's paint job or suspension any further. A pathway was trampled where once a driveway had been and they followed it. Grissom led, holding branches aside or above to allow Sara safe passage. When the house came into view it was larger than Sara expected but in obvious disrepair. It was difficult to believe anyone lived there in a long time.

Stopping at the door Gil hesitated, letting out the breath he hadn't realized he'd been holding. He didn't face Sara but asked her, "You're sure?" Her hand, flat against his back "I'm right behind you." The knob turned but the door didn't open. "Locked?" Sara wasn't sure why she was speaking in hushed tones. "Stuck." He threw his shoulder against the wood and the hinges creaked loudly, a popping sound at the end signaled success. Rubbing his shoulder Grissom shared a plaintive "Ow" before stepping into the entry hall. "You okay?"  He took her elbow, "I'll live, watch your step there."

They allowed their eyes to adjust to the relative darkness. There was some light streaming from rooms with windows that connected to the hall, but even that was dim given the cover of trees. "Fire the maid." Sara tried humor to ease her nerves. Indeed there seemed to be a layer of dust and webbing over everything. A telephone table stood ready, a rotary dial phone on it's top, a phone book underneath. Stacks of junk mail lay on the floor as if it had become a dumping ground. Grissom bent and with a pencil moved through the pile. Sara bent to read for herself when he didn't speak.

Trina Grissom. Every single piece of mail had the same name and address. "It's all junk mail, nothing worth taking here." Sara mused. Gil slipped into instructor mode, easy and comforting, "What else?" "Ah, it's all addressed to your mother," she took his pencil and moved through the stack, "Older at the bottom, newest on the top, less dust than anything else in the entryway…"She pushed back the pieces he had moved, getting to the original top of the pile, "Jesus…the most recent postmark is only two weeks ago."

Gil stood, wincing less than in the garden, but Sara noticed it just the same. It didn't escape his notice how carefully she straightened herself, as much as she tried to ignore them, the pains of the attack bore down on her. He moved slowly down the hall working toward the light. There were two choices of direction and he chose the right.

He didn't speak, but stood just inside the living room. Sara walked it in circles taking in as much of the room as she could. "Wallpaper looks likes it's from the 50's, furniture, what there is of it, same thing. Looks like he just took over a house that was abandoned in the late 50's. There's barely evidence that he was in this room."

"He was here. There's evidence everywhere." Sara looked at him quizzically. Grissom walked solemn faced to the doorway through which they had come. He shook his head in amazement as he stared. "What is it?"

His finger traced the painted wood and stopped at a red mark, so faded and small she wondered at how he had seen it. "This is how tall he was at the age of 4."

Sara leaned in close and squinted. "What? That line? Why would he mark out how…what the hell."

"This was our house Sara. This is the home I grew up in. The house we lived in until…well, when Miles disappeared and the nightmares began, mom thought it would be best to move away. I didn't realize how close we were to the original house until I was older. She never sold it, it'd been in her family forever and I guess she thought some day she might be able to come back and relive the good memories here."

"So the red and blue marks are the two of you?"

"Red for Miles, Blue for Gil, it was her way of keeping straight the little things, drawers, toothbrushes, cups."

"Gil?"

"Mm."

"The red lines continue, but the blue end after 5." "I noticed that. We stopped. After he was taken, we lost interested in those kinds of things, when he came back we were in the house she's in now. There should have been no lines after 5."  Sara cocked her head at the lines drawn and faded as though they had been there for nearly 50 years. "So what, he estimated how tall he would have been at each age and marked it on the wall?"

Gil just shrugged and walked away leaving Sara to puzzle.


	10. Chapter 10

Chapter 10

Chapter 10

 Gil appraised the room with a practiced eye. "He changes such subtle things." Sara ran her finger along the height markings on e last time before joining him. "Like?"

"The sofa cushions. This one belongs on the right, that one on the left."

She looked dubious, "Uh, you know which cushion belongs where?"

His mouth twisted as he considered, "The wear pattern. We'd sit here together and watch TV, or play cards. He sat on the left; I was on the right, when he was taken no one ever sat in his spot. Eventually the right side got a little threadbare while the left stayed intact.

"And now it's the opposite. Maybe he just made up for lost time sitting on his side." "The right side isn't worn at all Sara." It was a quiet declaration, made as he turned for the kitchen, Sara at his heels.

"Check the dates on the perishables." While she did he looked in cabinets and drawers.

"Milk went bad about a month and a half ago, eggs same time, those are the most recent dates."

"Red."

"Huh?"

"Red dishes, red bowls, red cups. Mom's few things she left behind and his red ones. No blue."

"Didn't she take the blue with you when you moved?"

"No. It was as if looking at the blue only reminded her of the missing red. The morning we made the discovery I had my breakfast in a white dish, grown up dishware I suppose, and from then on it stayed the same."

Sara chewed her lip and narrowed her eyes. "He's erasing you."

"Not exactly. I exist until the kidnapping."

"So he's playing it out as if he was left behind and you were taken."

"It seems that way. Yes."

She stood close to him and touched his shoulder. "You okay?" He favored her with a smile that never quite reached his eyes, "So far. You?"

"I keep trying to picture you as a child, see you in this place."

He looked at the room through memory and tried to recreate it for her.

"She would come home from the gallery around 4:30 and pay the sitter. I used to play outside watching the ants march in lines or creating forts from branches that had fallen. I never stayed inside when the sitter was here. She snapped her gum and tried to make me practice dancing to chubby checker records with her."

Sara hid her smile behind her hair, charmed at the image of a young Gil Grissom doing the twist with poodle skirted gum snapper.

"As soon as mom got home though I'd come in. She'd always ask what I learned that day, even when I wasn't in school. She said a day we didn't learn was a day we weren't fully alive. I'd try to invent something important to say and then I'd return the question. She'd respond with elaborate stories of colorful artists and patrons, always with a moral at the end. She would sign it as she spoke and I would try to invent something important to say and then I'd return the question.

She'd respond with elaborate stories of colorful artists and patrons, always with a moral at the end. She would sign it as she spoke and I would try to mimic the signs. When she'd begin dinner I'd sit right here on the floor and…" he reached behind a cupboard and pulled a largish matchbox out. "ah, yes, right where I left them."

He slid open the box to reveal a10 old silver jacks wand a red rubber ball. "She would cook and I would play jacks almost obsessively."

"Orderly and repetitive, that sounds right."

"There's a rhythm to it, a solid game of jacks is like a good piece of music, it builds, gains intensity…" His voice trialed off and he looked at the jacks in his hand. Sara watched him quietly for a moment and then theorized, "Great for increasing manual dexterity too, right? Made your hands faster for signing?"

"And bug catching." This time the smile did reach his eyes. He put the jacks in the box and returned it to it's hiding spot with a sort of reverence, a small ceremony that enabled Sara to imagine the complicated, deliberate boy he had been.

"Anything else moved in here?" "Not that seems significant. He used the kitchen and living room but the entryway looks like he never went there except to dump mail." "So some of you mom's mail still comes here, after all of this time?" "That's an assumption I'm not ready to make, let's not get ahead of ourselves honey, there's more house to see."

She flattened her hand against the white painted wood of a door off the kitchen, "What's behind this door?" "That's the thing. I know what was there 45 years ago, canned food, cereal, peanut butter. Now? I don't dare guess."

Sara took a deep breath and tugged at the door. Swollen with humidity it stuck, groaned and relented so fast it sent her back a few steps, nearly enough to land her in Grissom's extended hands, but not quite. Steadying herself she timidly stepped closer and pulled the string that would illuminate the contents.

< Prev 1. Default Chapter2. Grissom's Hands Chapter 23. Chapter 34. Chapter 45. Chapter 56. Chapter 67. Chapter 78. Chapter 89. Chapter 910. Chapter 1011. Chapter 1112. Chapter 1213. Chapter 1314. Chapter 1415. Chapter 1516. Chapter 1617. Chapter 1718. Chapter 1819. Chapter 19 The end Next >

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	11. Chapter 11

Chapter 11

Sara tucked her chin and tilted her head, examining the dusty remains of the pantry.

"Well?" the less than patient voice from behind her urged. "Dust and spiders mostly. A few old boxes of oatmeal." "I don't think there's much else to see in here. Let's have a look at the bedrooms." His disinterest in the spiders made her heart sink a little.

They crossed back the way they came and took the alternate side of the hallway. "First door. Our room." No stick in this door it slid open easily and the room was filled with sunlight. Red and white dominated. There was one bed, on the wall furthest from the window. It had been painted white, though dark wood still showed in places. The spread was a child's baseball pattern, white baseballs, bats and caps on a red background. The walls and single bureau contained child sized baseball trophies and team photos. Red and white pennants hung from the ceiling.

"Your brother played little league?" "No." Grissom picked up one of the photos and pointed out a date on the bottom corner "6-23-04". He pursed his lips but said nothing more. Sara examined the trophies, "They're all for the same team, maybe he coached?" The theory earned her an arched eyebrow but nothing more. Gil opened dresser drawers and discovered them full of boys clothing. "These weren't his, this is taking the reliving your youth thing a little far." The hamper proved clean. Under the bed there were a few mad magazines with the current year dates on them.

Sara couldn't help but continue to voice her thought process. "So, okay, he continues to grow while you stop. His dishes remain in the kitchen but yours are gone. There is evidence of him sitting in the living room but not of you, and now you're completely gone from this room and he has, what, reinvented himself as a child?"

"Maybe. Could be he wanted to create the illusion of a happy childhood. Could be that he was reliving one. Hard to tell." "Weird."

Gil left the room and opened the next-door down. It had been his mother's room and looked much as it had when she lived in it. He moved in tentatively and breathed in the must. It would seem that his brother hadn't spent much time in here. Sara came in behind him and placed her hand in the small of his back as she stood next to him. "Your mom's room." "Yes." He looked at her, she seemed so strong it was hard to imagine what she had been though. "It looks like it always did though. I don't think he came in here very often."

She bent, first at the waist and then dropped to her knees. "Uh…Gil? Your mom into bondage?" His eyebrows shot up even as he got down to her level.

Attached to the underside of his mother's bed were leather restraints in a crisscross pattern. The pair followed the straps to arm and leg cuffs positioned on the top of the mattress. Gil sat back on the floor, his knees to his chin. "There's no wear on them." Sara reported from the foot of the bed. He leaned back to rest his swimming head on his mothers chair and hit something hard. Another restraint. The chair was set up in the same method as the bed.

"He was going to keep her here. He was going to finish whatever was in his head for us and then he was going to bring her here and pretend everything was the way it should have been."


	12. Chapter 12

Chapter 12

"That's twisted." Sara's tone was hushed, almost awed. "Welcome to the family Grissom."

She noted a change in his demeanor as he continued to search the room; he was no longer connecting to the house on an emotional level. Work Gil had taken over.

"It's possible though, this wasn't for your mom. Think back, did any of those videos have backgrounds like this? Would you have noticed?"

"I'm not sure, I focused on the women, the fear, I don't know. I'll ask Brass to get me copies of the videos."

A banging from the front of the house made Sara jump. "Shit! What was that?"

"Police, come out of the house."

The pair exchanged an annoyed glance before making their way to the door. A complicated conversation and lengthy identification check were completed before Sara followed as Gil gave the two officers a tour of what they had discovered so far. He conveniently left out any mention of videotapes or Sara's theory.

"Where haven't you checked?" "My mother's study, the basement and back yard." "Lead on."

This was good news. Sara had concerns that they would be asked to leave. Gil for his part regretted not exploring his mother's sanctuary before the investigators arrival. He resented the intrusion of their sacred space.

A padlock stopped the search party. "Was this door always locked?" "No. Never." "Maybe your mother locked it when she left?" "Maybe, lock looks new though." One of the officers went to get bolt cutters from his 'rig'. Sara wrinkled her nose at the silver metal lock, "Should we dust it first?" "No point. I don't believe my mother did this, even if she had locked it Miles would have broken in by now, the odds are he did it, he's obviously been living here." "Yes, but…alone? He's been pretty…active, maybe he had help." Gil tipped his head in consideration. "Good point." He looked to the remaining officer, "You have a scene kit in your car?" "Sure we all gotta carry 'em now."

Sara lifted one pretty good print and a few decent partials before Officer Baden snapped the lock and pushed open the door. Everyone stood back while Gill assessed the room, but it was Sara who made the first observation. "Gil, did you notice what your mother is reading?" "I don't think so, why?"

"I'm sure I saw this," she held up a copy of The In-Between World of Vikram Lall "on the table near your mother's chair. Kind of obscure to be a coincidence."

Balanced in a small ray of sunlight on the windowsill by what Trina had always called her 'fainting sofa' Officer Polk noticed a bright yellow envelope with the word "Mother" tightly penned on it. "Mr. Grissom?" Opening it Gil found a cheery card decorated with a cottage covered in ivy and flowers on the outside and printed inside was "Welcome Home" then the same rigid handwriting as the envelope "Love, Miles and Miles Jr."

Sara read over his shoulder. "Miles Junior? You have got to be kidding."


	13. Chapter 13

Chapter 13

One of the officers cleared his throat. "Your brother has a son? Any idea where he might be?"

Gil looked truly surprised for the first time since Sara met him. His eyebrows sat high on his forehead as he focused on the card. "I don't…I have no idea. It could be that his personality split, I guess it's possible that he has a son; I'm concerned that it's also possible that he's abducted a boy to act as young Miles, a chance to change his past… I'm at a loss."

When he looked up his eyes found Sara's and locked. His fear was palpable, his desperation to find answers obvious, but only to her. She sucked a large breath in, searching for something that could ease him, the best she could do, "There's all kinds of stuff here to suggest a child, but not a lot of evidence of an actual child. No mess, no kid food, no little kid toothpaste or child's toothbrush. Maybe he's just got the kid in his head."

This got the lip purse of consideration from Gil, which she decided was better than fear.

Officer Rourke decided it was time for a closer look at the bathroom and baseball themed room. The remaining three went to check on the back yard.

The door in the back of the house swung open easily, no stick, and no elbow grease required. "It's like a different world back here," Sara blinked in the bright sun. Trees in the back had been cleared away; the lawn was obviously cared for, though not in the past few weeks. There was a swing, a ball and bat and three chaise lounges. The back edge of the land was a ledge with some brush. Gil made his way toward it and found a large aperture telescope. Close behind him Sara let out a whistle, "Orion Skyview…3.6 wow, didn't know that was even on the market yet. That's a serious scope. What was he looking at?" "Go ahead and look."

Grissom didn't need to put his eye to the ocular to know what Sara was about to find.

"I can read the water bottle I brought you when you were planting the tree."

"Can you see in the house?"

"Just the window where the two chairs are, her curtains are closed, I can't see more."

"I need to know if he can see the keypad to the sanctuary."

"No way. Even if the curtain was open, no way."

She straightened and slipped her hand into his. He kept his eye on the horizon but gave her hand a little squeeze. "If you hadn't come…" he couldn't finish the sentence. "I'm here. I couldn't be anywhere else. I can't even picture sitting in Vegas in some hotel room without you right now." "You're braver than I am Sara. You're stronger in so many ways." "I just have less to lose."

Officer Baden cleared his throat. "I found a car. Late model Corolla parked in the side yard. He must've had a pathway we didn't see. Car's locked, I'll look inside for extra keys."

"Waste of time. He wouldn't leave them behind. Might as well leave it for now. If it's important you crime scene guys can do a better job right now than we can. I'd say it's time to get to the belly of the beast."

Officer Baden looked confused, Sara clarified, "Basement."


	14. Chapter 14

Chapter 14

Officer Polk rejoined the group for the basement tour. He had bagged a few items that lent credence to the theory that if a child didn't live in the house, one could have been a frequent guest. It was what Polk referred to as 'Weekend Dad' evidence.

Another padlock greeted them and with some grunting Baden managed to snap it away. He leaned in the stairwell reaching for a light switch that proved useless upon its discovery. "I'll lead." Grissom began down, feeling each step carefully before putting his weight on it. The officers probably thought he was checking for rotting boards, but Sara guessed it was something more sinister that held his concern. "Let Sara come next, here, put your hand on my shoulder so you don't slip." She smiled in the darkness, there was nowhere to slip to, but she appreciated the invited touch. One of the officers lit their way from above with his maglite. At the bottom landing Grissom tried a string attached to a light bulb, again without illuminating result. "Guess we'll have to look by flashlight."

The first half of the cellar was basic storage, dusty and unused. Grissom had a feeling it would require a lot of box opening to feel at peace here. The second half of the basement, a smaller room than the first was locked with a slide bolt set up high out of a child's reach. His mother had told him when he was young that this had been his father's workspace but he couldn't remember his dad once picking up a tool. One of the officers slid the bolt with ease and the door swung open. A light was set up on one side of the room, revealing a workbench. The moment Grissom switched it on he longed for the darkness.

Stretched on the bench was an anatomical model such as would be used for a biology class. A female model, wearing a blouse, which had been torn open, buttons missing, a pair of slacks shoved down to hips so that the torso was completely exposed. Plastic replaceable organs were dislodged and strewn as though cut from the non-existent skin. The head of the model wore a dark brown wig, the face was covered with a photograph, bent and taped at the ears. Sara's smiling face.

Knowing it was impossible to keep her from seeing it Gil ignored the sick feeling in his stomach and stepped aside to allow Sara a view. "Jesus." It was a whisper. "Those are my clothes." Her voice was calmer than it should have been. Baden moved in for a closer look, "What the hell is this stuff?" Gil gave him an expression that could kill. It was dried semen, Miles had obviously jerked off onto the photo, the model, her clothing. It was easy to imagine him doing it. Grissom put a protective arm around Sara, directing her away. Her voice rose an octave as she repeated, "Damn it Gil, those are MY CLOTHES!" He pulled her into him, wrapped his arms around her, wanting with all his being to shield her from what was already part of her reality. She allowed it, to his shock; she bowed her head and clung to him, eyes closed, taking deep breaths. "It doesn't matter now. He's gone now." Gil reassured her quietly and was rewarded with a small nod. She stepped away, "I'm okay. It's okay. Let's just finish this."

Grissom and Sara joined the officers who had stepped away to afford the couple some privacy. "Find anything?" Grissom inquired. "Lot's of pictures of the two of you. They look like they were taken with a long lens." Responding to the confusion on Gil's face Officer Polk began to explain that many obsessive compulsives would stalk and photograph victims for a long time before committing a crime. Interrupting him Sara tore the light from his hand and moved both it, and her face close to the wall of photos. In seconds she was gone, around the basement, up the stairs, through the back door and into the light of the yard.


	15. Chapter 15

Chapter 15

When Grissom caught up Sara was pacing, her body rigid, her arms wrapped around her middle. He touched her shoulder and she spun to face him.

"I don't believe this. You saw what I saw, didn't you? Those photos…that wasn't us."

He squinted in the sun and watched silently as she resumed pacing. "He slipped right in, who knows how many times and picked up, right where we'd left off."

He offered what he could in way of consolation, "He can't do it again." But he knew the best thing to do was to let her rant, get it out, as long as there was fight in her he'd let her fight.

"I have no home. You know that right? My apartment…" he wasn't sure she was going to finish it out loud she let it hang there so long, but when she did the words rushed out of her in a tumble. "I could go back, move right back in, as long as the carpets cleaned and the crime scene tape's gone I could sleep there tonight. Do you know why, Gil? Do you understand why, homeless I can go back to that apartment?"

He sat on the edge of one of the lounge chairs; suddenly exhausted he ran his hands over his face. Yes, he thought to himself, I have a very clear understanding of why. He said nothing, just listened as Sara continued her monologue.

"That one bedroom box that your brother invaded, that space that he used to violate and terrify me, it was never my home. The lab, the conference rooms, the garage, your office, those places were my home, more than that they were my world. He made my one safe place somewhere it would be nearly, maybe even completely impossible to trust in. The only home I've ever had or wanted, my respite from everything has become the center of my greatest fear. Even that wasn't enough for Miles Grissom though, not even that."

Gil closed his eyes against his twin's name.

"He took my memories. I don't know who you are. Do you get that? I don't know who WE are. I can't judge what moments, some of the most cherished moments of my life, may have been times when I opened myself, poured myself into the man who was leading me to my own rape and evisceration. I look at you and I have no idea what you've said to me, what you haven't. What feelings are real and what was something your brother taught me to believe."

He could take no more. Gil stood and blocked the path she was wearing in the grass. "Sara." Soft edged and filled with something terribly close to pity. "We'll figure this out. We'll look at the photos; we'll check every memory as it surfaces. I won't let you live wondering, I promise.

She laughed without mirth or mercy and sat on the lawn, dropping hard and gracelessly. "Do you think that my biggest fear is sorting my memories? That's an annoyance, it's a loss, but it pales in comparison to the fear."

He squatted I front of her, trying to force eye contact. "Tell me."

"I never knew. He could become you and then become a monster. Seamlessly. He could convince me that he loved me and then do those things to me." Now she held his eyes, "And if he could be you, you can be him."


	16. Chapter 16

Chapter 16

Single shot. Direct hit, not to his heart, but to the soul of Gil Grissom.

He could avoid mirrors forever, but he couldn't avoid the reflection of his brother in Sara's eyes.

His chin dipped so low Sara panicked for a moment that his neck had somehow snapped. His knees straightened and he was standing, but without conviction. His presence had diminished to a bleak blot in the sun. She watched helplessly as he turned his back to her.

"Do you think you can find your way back to the house?"

The question took her by such surprise Sara didn't answer right away. Eventually she managed, "I think so."

"Take the car. Stay as long as you want, or need. I won't come near."

With that Gil set the keys to the rental on the ledge of a window and disappeared into the house.

Sara cried. In the beginning it was just tears, sliding down her face, numbly. No real understanding behind them slowly her brain began revealing images, endless moments of quiet attraction between herself and someone she could not identify. This brought the quiet moans of frustration. When the rape replayed for her self-torturing pleasure she sobbed and tore at lumps of grass and dirt with her hands. It was the last few moments, and Gil's quiet acceptance of her accusation that released the torrent. She lay on her side, the green blades insinuating themselves into her hair, ears, nose. She wailed. Tears, snot, and wet saliva mixed and ran down her face, her neck, and throat. Her entire body convulsed with each new wave of misery. Part of her feared that she would never stop, that she would merely awaken one day, tied to a bed in some hospital muttering and drugged beyond all memory. What truly frightened her is that some piece of her hoped for it. Instead the convulsions slowed to shivers and the sobs to ragged gasps for air. Her head throbbed and her cheeks were raw. Not knowing what else to do she retrieved the keys headed for Trina's.


	17. Chapter 17

Chapter 17

Gil closed his phone and stood in the darkness of the stairwell willing his hands to stop their shaking betrayal. He reminded himself that this was what he had always known. Waiting for his brother's ultimate destruction was a part of life since the day Miles returned from his father's charge. Believing that Miles death would somehow free him to live the life he had rarely allowed himself to fantasize was a foolish indulgence for which he would chide later.

"She gonna be okay? This whole thing would be tough for anyone to take, she looks like she's been through enough already." Ignoring the question Gil began searching the rest of the room. Creaking floorboards overhead told him Sara had gone.

The basement search turned up more photos of other women, some of whom Gil recognized, but his brother was not in these. He also uncovered a number of leather bound notebooks, each tied closed with a red, white and blue ribbon, each detailing the comings and goings of women somehow connected to Gil. Color-coded, each woman's personal information, timetable, clothing style, job, address was entered in black. Written in neat blue script that mirrored his own Gil found detailed descriptions of his encounters with the woman in question along with his brother's commentary as he watched the exchange. Finally in red, at the end of each book was a sloppy, scribbled message about her death, what she had pleaded for and how Miles had manipulated her into believing, even to the last breath, that he might, if she found the right words, let her live.

He searched for Sara's book but found none with her name or details.

A door slammed upstairs and a boy's voice reached the basement, "Dad? Dad, is everything okay?"

Officer Polk placed a hand on Gil's forearm to stop him answering. Officer Baden led the way to where a boy of roughly 11 waited at the top of the stairs.

"Dad? What's going on?" The boy moved around the officers to talk to Gil. "Why are the cops here?"

Officer Baden gently turned the boy to look at him, "What's your name son?" "Miles Grissom, what's going on? Dad? I saw Sara driving away when I was on my bike, you didn't tell me she was coming."

Gil's head throbbed. Everything went black for a few seconds and he was certain he was going to pass out. The boy had dark hair and eyes, his features were not remotely like his own, but there was a vague resemblance to Trina.

"Miles, I'm not your dad. I'm your uncle. Did your father ever tell you about having an Uncle Gil?"

"No, Dad, that's not funny. Uncle Gil is dead. What are you talking about? Why was Sara here? Is she coming back?"

The boy was near hysteria. Officer Polk took him by the shoulder and directed him to the sofa; the boy went automatically to the worn edge. "Son, this is your Uncle, your dad was wrong when he thought that your Uncle Gil was dead. Did he tell you that he was a twin?" The boy nodded his head, he had known. "Where's dad?" Gil stepped in, taking his old place on the sofa, settling in next to young Miles. "Your dad is gone. He died a few days ago, I'm sorry." And he was. He was sorry for this frightened young boy. "Did you live here with him? Did someone else take care of you?"

"I live here when dad's home. If he's away I stay with Kenny." "Who's Kenny?" Officer Polk asked the question, but when he saw the look in Gil's eyes he backed away.

Tears were running down his cheeks but the boy focused on his newfound uncle, "Kenny Dillon, he's my friend from baseball, and well, school I guess, but we're in different classes. I stay with him and his mom when dad's working. Is that why Sara was here? Cause dad's dead?"

Gil swallowed past the rock in his throat, "How do you know Sara?" "I want to see my dad." He patted the boy's hand and left his own covering it, "I'll find out about you seeing him, but right now, I need to know how you know Sara."

"She's dad's girlfriend, but she never comes here cause she lives in Las Vegas. Dad goes there for work, sometimes he lets me come with him." "And you get to go see Sara?" "We play a game, I've met her once but we couldn't tell her who I was, she was supposed to guess, but she couldn't. Usually dad and I play a game where I try to sneak and take pictures of them without them seeing me. I want to be a reporter so dad says it's good practice. If I get clear ones he gives me a prize - extra equipment and stuff."

Now Officer Baden stepped in "Do you play that game with anyone else?" "No, just Dad and Sara. Did I do something wrong?"

"No, you didn't do anything. Can you give me Kenny's mom's phone number Miles?"

While Officer Polk called Ms. Dillon, asking her to meet them at the station, Officer Baden helped Miles pack up some of his things, explaining to the boy that he might not be able to come back to his house for a little while.


	18. Chapter 18

Chapter 18

He didn't even have time to check into a hotel. Sitting at the police station, talking to Brass at Officer Polk's desk Gil's cell phone rang from his back pocket. He checked the display and found a return text message from his mother. It said simply, 'Sara's gone'.

Thanking the officer for the ride Gil noticed the rental car in his mother's driveway. He let himself into the house and found Trina in the kitchen. Neither bothered to speak aloud, their hands told the story.

Sara had come back to the house just as Gil had said in his message. Trina had welcomed her in and told her to get rest, but she had to go, a standing appointment she could not miss. When she returned home she found a note on the table, which she handed to her son.

Mrs. Grissom,

Thank you for opening your home to me. I am sorry for everything. I cannot stay. Tell Gil I'm sorry.

Peace,

Sara Sidle

He ran his fingers over her signature. He knew he had to tell his mother what they had found but he didn't think it was possible. His fingers didn't know how to leave the paper, his hands too tired and grief stricken to carry the messages she waited for.

XXX

Gil stayed with his mother for a month. Together they comforted young Miles and shielded him from the news reports of his father's legacy as best they could. Ms. Dillon asked to keep him with her, letting him visit with his grandmother and uncle whenever he wanted and they agreed. It seemed kinder to leave him with something familiar. Gil and Trina both saw him frequently and made sure he was taken care of financially. For the sake of his nephew and mother Gil planned a small funeral for his brother and watched while Miles team and classmates surrounded him.

Trina insisted on helping Gil clean out the house once the detectives and criminalists were through. She would never know about the bindings on her bed, or in her chair and while she had heard about the horrors of the basement they had been taken away before she entered the house. The videos had been watched; it was determined unlikely any of the killings or rapes had taken place in his childhood home.

The house sold quickly, it was in a good position, quiet and perfect for a small family with no ghosts.

As they exited the door the final time Trina slid a small box into her son's palm. His jacks set from the kitchen, she'd remembered through everything.


	19. Chapter 19 The end

Chapter 19

"Are you listening to me? Grissom?" Catherine snapped her fingers to pull him out of his daze.

"What?" irritated he removed his attention from his cell phone and refocused on Catherine. "Mandy and I are going out to the Stilton place, are you coming?"

Mandy. He almost never worked with her, leaving Sara's replacement to be trained by Catherine and Warrick. She'd been gone 8 months without any communication more than a short letter of resignation and he still thought of Mandy as her replacement.

"No. I'm off the clock." He gave no other explanation. "Must be nice." Catherine threw the parting shot over her shoulder.

The text message from Trina told him she had arrived safely in Vegas, was at the Hilton and had left a room key for him at the desk. He should come when he was able.

When his mother told him a week ago that she planned on visiting he tried to insist she stay with him but she wouldn't have it. Via instant message she explained that she wanted to try the luxurious life for a change. He admitted she earned it, but was stung that she hadn't wanted to stay in his home.

At the Hilton the front desk clerk asked his name then handed him the key to the Napa Executive Suite. "Are you sure this is the correct room?" "You are Gil Grissom?" "I am." The clerk checked the computer, "Yes, Napa Executive Suite. The lady is waiting for you."

Mom wasn't kidding when she said she wanted luxury. He pressed a button that would trip a visual strobe inside, alerting his mother that someone was at the door, and then used his key to enter. The Napa suite was tastefully appointed in dark woods and tile floors. A fire glowed and cracked in a large clay fireplace, pink flowers stood as the brightest colors in the room. He searched for a moment and then saw the door to the balcony open.

His heart felt ready to explode when he stepped into the cool night air.

"You let your beard grow." The desert breeze blew her hair across her face. He just stared.

"I like it. Very sexy." His mouth opened and closed, no sound escaping.

Sara smiled. "Say something."

"My mother…"

"Helped me get you here. Disappointed?"

"Shocked. Where have you been?"

"I went back to Boston. Here, sit down." She sat on the edge of an iron chair and motioned for him to do the same. "I needed some space, and some therapy."

"It looks like it helped, you're glowing." Whether it was his place to say or not he couldn't help himself. She was a vision. "I don't think I ever understood the phrase a sight for sore eyes until now."

"I'm sorry I ran away."

He shook his head, leaning into her just a little, "Don't be. I don't blame you. You did what you had to do. The results seem worth it." His eyes tightened as he looked at her closely, "Are you really okay Sara?"

"That depends on what happens next. I shouldn't have left you to deal everything on your own. I shouldn't have said what I did, and I can never take back that moment, but Gil, it wasn't true."

She tried to take his hand but he stood and put a few feet between them.

"It was. You only said what we both knew. If you came here to apologize you didn't have to. I'm happy as hell to see you, see that you're not broken and hurting somewhere, but you don't owe me a thing."

"Maybe not, but I owe it to myself to try to be happy. You make me happy. I've thought about this to the point of almost going crazy. I tried to get on with my life without you. At first I thought if I could just come back and tell you how sorry I was, but I could never picture me leaving after I said it. Every scenario ended with me in your arms."

"Sara," but the breath he took gave her a chance to cut in, she was ready for his resistance but was not about to let it stop her.

"You had it wrong, when you told me to look in your eyes." She could see him searching his memory. "The night of the rape, in my bathroom. I was afraid when you came too close and you told me to look in your eyes, and then you showed me your scar."

"I remember now."

"I've thought about that over and over again. I kept thinking that I could look at you and know that you weren't him and not be afraid, but then I'd think about him spending time with me and me never knowing it wasn't you. His eyes could hide the truth and maybe yours could too."

She walked to him and cornered him against the railing. This time she did take his hand and held it up, "It's not your eyes that I can trust. It's your hands. What I finally realized, sorting through, trying to remember when it was him, when it was you, he may have spoken to me, flirted with me even, but he never touched me before that night. I know he didn't. I knew something was wrong. I thought it was just my reaction to finally getting what I wanted, but it wasn't, it was the way he touched me."

He took her hand off of his own and placed it gently on the railing. He brushed a stray hair from her eyes, rimmed now with red, her desperation to reach him bordering on tears.

"How can you trust me when I don't? I don't know that I'm not capable of the things Miles did. His passion was deadly, that's not a chance I'm willing to take."

"Miles jealousy was deadly, Gil, not his love. I've talked to your mother, he loved his son, he never hurt him."

"What if you're wrong?"

But she could see that logic had won her battle for her, he was still resisting, but it was residual, habit.

She caressed the back of his neck, pulling him close and kissed him.

XXX

Every year on that date they returned to the Napa Suite. In the early years they made love on the balcony, just as they had that night. Later, when they were older and slightly less athletic they contented themselves with cognac and kissing in front of the fire.

Sometimes at night he would wake up to find Sara's finger tracing his scar in her sleep, but he'd place his hand nearby and even through fitful dreams she'd find it to hold onto and drop deeper into slumber.

They had no secrets except one, locked in a safety deposit box under an assumed name was a little leather book, wrapped in red, white and blue ribbon.

The end.


End file.
